


Bad Dreams

by TagzHumanFire



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Canon Gay Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, bram saves the day, bram's trying his hardest, simon has a bad dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 10:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14330058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TagzHumanFire/pseuds/TagzHumanFire
Summary: Simon has a bad dream. Bram comes over to comfort him. Angst and fluff ensue.





	Bad Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Look guys I had a dream about my crush last night and it’s got me messed up in the head, so here’s what came out of that. Hope you enjoy.

Simon jolts into consciousness, sitting up straight, gasping for breath that he doesn’t remember losing, white t-shirt sticky with sweat and his dark blue, puffy covers tossed to the side and twisted around his ankles. The cramped apartment bedroom is dark, save for the beams of moonlight that drift in from the window over his bed, casting ominous slats of dark and light across his legs and shaking hands. He reaches for the phone that he knows is charging on the small side table next to him, but even after pawing through his sheets and the drawers, he can’t find it.

_Damn it._ He thinks, and he’s still gasping for air like he’s suffocating, and the room is so suffocatingly quiet he feels like it’s spinning. _Damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it_. And then he sobs, big, heaving sobs at first that come from deep in his chest, but he feels like he’s violating some unspoken principle of the suffocating silence, so his sobs putter out into small, scared whimpers that he tries to kill off in the pillow that he buries his face into, defeated and utterly exhausted.

Bad dreams. Bad, bad dreams. They’d be going on for some time now, ever since moving away from the ease of Creekwood with its routine and Waffle Houses to the terrifyingly unforgiving landscape of college in the big city. Dreams about his parents kicking him out of the house, of Martin Addison (Martin Addison, of all people) kicking the shit out of him on the stage of _Cabaret_ while all of his friends laugh, laugh, laugh. Dreams of Bram—cute Bram, who held him at the airport and kissed his tears and promised him that he would never, ever leave, not even when they left to different colleges, never ever—dreams of Bram doing exactly what he had promised not to, dreams of being alone and scared and sad just like he had been for so long all those years ago.

And even though Bram was at Northeastern, barely an hour’s drive from the University of Chicago where Simon was studying, the distance might as well have been halfway across the globe, because for the first time in what _felt_ like forever, he didn’t get to see Bram every day, to drink in his smile and his warmth. The two had been inseparable that summer after senior year, the summer of sticky-sweet slushies and sunburnt beach days and the summer of late, quiet nights finding each other. The summer of endless possibilities.

Now he was here, feeling like a kid all over again. Here, hiding sobs into a limp college-budget pillow as he tried, tried, tried to stop crying. It was just a dream, after all.

_Ding._

The familiar metallic ring sounded through the air as Simon’s phone rang from across the room. So that’s where it was, not that he could bring himself to care enough.

_Ding. Ding._

It was probably his neighbor asking him in the wee hours of the morning to borrow detergent again, or his landlord ringing at ungodly hours of the morning to confirm his rent payment. Why couldn’t people just let him be, why couldn’t he let _himself_ be? Everything was just so raw and fresh and visceral, why couldn’t he even cry in pea—

_Ding._

Simon fisted the pillow out from underneath him and threw it against the wall, hard, letting out a shout as his knuckles crashed against the metal headrest, pain shooting up to his fingers as his other hand clutched the offending knuckles to dull the sharpness.

_Ding._

“God _damn_ it!” he yelled, no longer caring about the deep silence that surrounded him, though the incessant ringing from his phone had already broken that, in any case. He kicked off what covers remained and stumbled in the darkness over to his desk, where he had left his phone uncharged the night before. The screen flashed to life, cutting through the dark of the apartment.

_4:07 a.m._

_5 new notifications_.

Simon tapped through the passcode and swiped over to his messages before letting out a heaving sigh.

_Bram Greenfeld <3 (5)_ lit up on his screen. The heart had felt dumb at the time, but Bram had insisted on adding it, and Leah and Abby thought it was adorable. Now, it’s this heart that melts away his anger.

_Bram Greenfeld <3_

_4:05 a.m. Hey babe. I know you_ _’ve been having bad dreams and all recently, I just wanted to check in to make sure you were okay if you wake up in the middle of the night_.

_Bram Greenfeld <3_

_4:05 a.m. Anyway_ _… I love you. Don’t forget that._

_Bram Greenfeld <3_

_4:05 a.m. you know I_ _’m just realizing now that your phone might not be on silent and this might wake you up._

_Bram Greenfeld <3_

_4:06 a.m. Damn it, babe, I_ _’m so sorry, pelease don’t be mad if this woke you up._

_Bram Greenfeld <3_

_4:06 a.m. please** si, seriously, I_ _’m sorry. I’m kicking myself right now._

Even this late at night, with his eyes puffy and red and his knuckles still throbbing, Simon feels his lips tug up at the thought his well-meaning (albeit thoughtless) boyfriend. Here was Bram, cute Bram, with his dumb heart emoticon next to his name and his typos and his texts at four in the morning and somehow he’s still the only thing that can make Simon’s heart melt. Here was his boyfriend. Something constant in this new life of his. Some _one_ constant in this new life of his.

_Simon Spier_

_4:07 a.m. it_ _’s okay, bram. I was awake already. Though you were right about the nightmares_.

_Bram Greenfeld <3_

_4:08 a.m. I_ _’ll be right over_

And no matter how much Simon protests and insists that everything is fine now, Bram still shows up in record time, knocking on the door to his suffocatingly silent apartment and filling it with such warmth and relief that Simon feels like he’s back in Creekwood during the summer of endless possibilities, sitting with Abby and Leah and Nick and cute Bram Greenfeld as they laugh and eat and enjoy each other. Simon wraps Bram in his arms, taking in his solidness, his _realness_ , breathing in the familiar smell of coffee and warm laundry that Bram carries around with him like it’s woven into his being and for the first time that night and maybe that week feeling like everything might be okay, even college.

Bram practically carries both of the boys back to Simon’s bed, where they lay down together, sharing the covers. Simon finds his place buried in the crook of Bram’s neck, who leans down to kiss him, soft and sweet. Bram hums softly and wraps an arm around Simon’s shoulders as they drift to sleep together.

—————

An hour later, Simon’s eyes crack open to the sound of frying. The blinds are open now, and soft sunlight floods the room. He can see Bram through the open bedroom door in a stolen pair of Simon’s pajama pants, whistling and frying away what smells like pancakes, though Simon thinks he looks something like an angel in the soft lighting.

Bram was never the type to break a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one angsty, crush-fueled sitting, but I hope you enjoyed in any case. Comments make my day, so please leave one if you liked any part of this xx


End file.
